


Fire And Oxygen: I'll Fall With Your Knife

by BrightLotusMoon



Series: Mikey The Lifegiver [12]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Empath Raph, Mikey Is An Iron Woobie, Psychic Mikey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 21:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13984128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightLotusMoon/pseuds/BrightLotusMoon
Summary: Raphael struggles to work with the projective empathic talents he acquired when Michelangelo formed that psychic bond with the family. When something violent happens, Raph realizes he needs help and reluctantly turns the reins over to his baby brother.





	Fire And Oxygen: I'll Fall With Your Knife

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a Peter Murphy song
> 
> TMNT Universal Fanfiction Competition 2018: Winner, Third Place for Most In-Character Raphael.

 

Fire And Oxygen: I’ll Fall With Your Knife

 

It was just the beginning  
I think that I was meant to be next to you, to you  
On this planet spinning  
I think that I was meant to be next to you, to you  
And you know I found the dust to be resilient  
And we’re the dirtiest of the dirt  
Every time we fall to pieces  
We build something new out of the hurt  
And we can never come back to earth  
To earth, to earth, to earth, to earth  
We can never come back to earth, to earth, to earth  
  
Are you living your life or just waiting to die?  
The bright, the bright, the bright  
The brightest things fade the fastest  
All my life, the bright, the bright, the bright  
The brightest things fade out the fastest  
Whoa, whoa, whoa  
The brightest things fade the fastest  
Whoa, whoa, whoa  
The brightest things fade the fastest  
  
Whoa, whoa, whoa  
Whoa, whoa, whoa  
  
This is a crooked path  
I think that I was meant to be next to you, to you  
We can never come back (we can never come back)  
I think that I was meant to be next to you, to you  
And you know I found the dust to be resilient  
And we’re the dirtiest of the dirt  
Every time we fall to pieces  
We build something new out of the hurt  
And we can never come back to earth  
To earth, to earth, to earth, to earth  
We can never come back to earth, to earth, to earth  
  
Are you living your life or just waiting to die?  
The bright, the bright, the bright  
The brightest things fade the fastest  
All my life, the bright, the bright, the bright  
The brightest things fade out the fastest  
Whoa, whoa, whoa  
The brightest things fade the fastest  
Whoa, whoa, whoa  
The brightest things fade the fastest  
(Fastest)  
  
The brightest things fade the fastest  
Whoa, whoa, whoa  
The brightest things fade the fastest  
Whoa, whoa, whoa  
The brightest things fade the fastest  
The brightest things fade the fastest  
The brightest things fade the fastest

-Steve Aoki featuring Fall Out Boy, “Back To Earth”

 

* * *

 

Raphael stood statue-still on the rooftop, face turned up into the rain, mouth open, chest heaving. His brain wouldn’t stop, and he let it go, and it roamed where it couldn’t before, picking up tiny flickers of emotion here and there. He pushed and reached, but that was it.

He grit his teeth. Back when Michelangelo expanded their empathic bond and Raph had started sensing his family’s emotions, he had assumed…

Well. There it was. _Assumed._ Mikey hadn’t said anything about the whole city. Funny, Raph had done that whole “look before you leap” thing again without even realizing it.

And here he was, waiting, and Mikey would probably say he failed. Screwed up. Messed it up. Just like he used to say t-

_Ah, damn it, this is how Mikey used to feel._

Grunting, he clenched his fists and glared down at the wet rooftop at his feet.

There was a very deliberate thud barely two feet behind him.

He almost laughed. His brother was like a cat; he made the most noise when he _wanted_ to be found out. At least…nowadays, he did. He didn’t really “screw around” anymore on missions…

Shuddup, asshole, Raph told himself.

“Quit bein’ hard on yourself,” Michelangelo said softly. “I’m the one who’s s’posed to do that.”

“No, Leo is.” And Raph turned around, grin glinting in the moonlight and the shining rain.

Mikey rushed forward and hugged him before Raph could move. Raph grunted and groaned and put up with it, but feeling his baby brother’s cheek on his plastron made him smile. He could actually feel Mikey direct a burst of emotional energy toward him, so he caught it and spread it around them both, just like a blanket.

“Aww, Raph, you care!”

“Whatever.”

They stayed like that until they both started to squirm a little. Mike pulled away and smiled at him with a happy glint in his eye, grinning just enough to show a canine tooth. “Dude, you ready to hunt crime?”

“Always, brother.” Raph showed his teeth back. They leaped off the roof and down a fire escape, into an alley, and waited until the frantic footsteps of “thugs on the run” came closer.

Raph opened his mind the way Splinter had taught them in meditation. He could _feel_ the two men, excited and electric from some smaller heist, enthralled and ready for something bigger, a real, big robbery, something that might have real action. It was a dark tang in Raph’s thoughts, _sensing_ what criminals were wanting. A shiver ran across his shoulders.

He hated it.

He didn’t realize he was growling until Mikey’s hand was heavy on his shoulder. “Relax, dude. Don’t get caught up in it, you’ll start getting pulled in. You’ve got similar feelings, just on the noble side, but it’ll kind of feel one in the same if you’re not careful. You gotta keep them separate. Compartments. Y’know. Like Don said that one time?”

Swallowing, Raph nodded. He licked his lips. He was starting to sweat. How the hell did Mikey keep track of all these sensations? How did he know to separate and compartmentalize so quickly when it was all a rolling boil of hot sparking _feeling_ and _want_ and _yes this_ and _now right now_ and _do it do it do it do it do it_

Something _slammed_ down in his mind and he jumped, teeth rattling as they clacked hard.

“Yeah, keep it _down,_ dude, what did I just say? You’re not _thinking_ straight, Raph, you gotta separate!”

He stared into his brother’s huge eyes, the blue darker than before. Mikey did not look pleased. “Raph, if you’re gonna do this with me, you need to control yourself and you can’t just fling yourself out there like you’re used to. You’ll get _hurt._ ” There were faded scars on Mikey’s face and to Raph they stood out angrily in the glow of the street lamps. He gulped. Was this _fear?_ Was he _scared_ of Mikey?

_No, fuck, that’s silly, because he ca-_

Hot and electric _screaming_ rolled through him and he sprang from his crouch, sais in his hands before he knew anything at all, and his brother was mumbling something but he couldn’t _hear_ him because all he could _hear_ was the emotion and the _RUSH_ and the salty tang of _EXCITING_

And then they appeared in the alleyway, the two men, scarred up from knife fights and cage fights and they were _laughing_ and he _dipped all the way down_ and he could _feel them_ and _they wanted to hurt_ and they wanted to _KILL_ and a soft, purring snarl rumbled through Raphael’s plastron and Michelangelo’s hand on the edge of his carapace felt like nothing at all as he leapt forward and _roared_ —

And there was a long human yell as something heavy and metal and thick was swung right at his face and he ducked, drove his fist into a soft human gut and then the second guy was grabbing at his legs and he _grabbed_ the sensation of feeling them breathe and he _smiled_ and his sai slashed across a face and there was a meaty human growl, and two human men and one mutant turtle tumbled and kicked and punched and it was a cage, he was in his own cage and it was pouring over him like a torrent, the _need_ and the _want_ and the _blood_ and the _yes hurt yes_

And another bulk slammed him away suddenly, and there was the sound of _crack_ and CRAAAACK and _CRUNCHcrunch_ and then his little brother _screamed._

Raphael felt his eyes dilate. Raphael felt the blood whoosh through him. Raphael felt heat and rage and anger and _pain_ and _they hurt Mikey, they hurt little brother, I will kill them—_

The human men. They were screaming. They were sobbing, like children. He couldn’t see. Everything was too dark. There was a warm bright light somewhere off to the side but he was shaking so hard he could barely feel it. Feelings of absolute terror and desperation and shock rushed toward him and he batted them away like shuriken, that was how _strong_ he felt and the rolling deepness _surged_ through him and he _pushed_ it out and someone was yelling and someone was crying and then

Then, there was nothing but black silence in his head.

He gasped like a drowning person, surging to his feet. The warm bright light somewhere was pulsing at him and he whirled wildly.

Michelangelo coughed and groaned in the night. “Bro,” he whispered. “I _told_ you.”

Raphael saw him, lying mostly on his left side. His right side was a mess of bruises and blood. He was glaring up at Raph with dark, dark azure eyes, and Raph swallowed hard.

_You can’t be scared of him because he can’t scare you. Welp. He can._

He opened his mouth and couldn’t find words, couldn’t find _sound._ He dropped to his knees and lightly ran his hands over his brother’s shattered ribs. Michelangelo hissed and growled and shivered, sweat pouring down his face. Raphael felt himself start to shake and he jerked away, and then he saw the lead pipe smeared with blood lying less than a foot away, and he kicked at it, and then he yelled.

And then he yelled.

And then he yelled.

And then he screamed.

Raphael got to his feet and screamed, and he ran at a wall, and he punched, and he yelled, and he felt _emotions_ flooding through him and crashing over him and he didn’t even know if they were _his_ and it was _too dark_ and he should have controlled his own head, he should have controlled his own _mind_ , why was he so fucked _up,_ he couldn’t even fight a pair of human criminals without losing his _mind_ and his fists were hurting and he kept screaming and his throat was on fire and his head was on fire and then the warm bright light came up from behind him and pulled him into a hug and

Mikey, it was Mikey. He shuddered. “Mikey, you shouldn’t be moving, they broke your--”

“I’m okay, Raph. You’re not okay.”

“Mikey, how many _ribs_ are _broken_ in you?”

There was a pause.

“Mmaybe half? It hurts. It hurts. You hurt more.”

“I _do not_.” And he punched the wall again, and something in his head punched him back and screamed like a wild animal, so he screamed back at it, and Mikey’s arms let him go and he flung himself at the wall, at the thing in his head, clawing at it, trying to bring it _down_ and wrestle it like the beast it was and it was so _huge_ and red and strong and he yelled and he _screamed_ and it _hurt_ in his _head_ and not even the warm bright light could cover that dark thing coming for him and he hit the wall with his whole body, and again, and again.

Somewhere next to him, Mikey was making tiny pained sounds and gasps and it made him feel sick, and he grabbed his head and snarled at himself and slammed his palms against the wall and his hands were bleeding and _good_ and slowly the dark thing began to shrink and the echoing tidal wave began to fade.

He sensed Michelangelo’s telepathy, shaky and almost _angry_ , moving toward him at a crawl. He kept his eyes closed. His body was cold and shivering.

Mikey made more sounds, breathing harshly, then like meditation. Raph could literally feel him doing something to his own body. Blocking out the pain of at least four cracked ribs, probably. Raph just slumped against the wall and stared at his bloody hands and waited and waited, and he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but he couldn’t stop shaking, and he took a deep breath and pushed himself into meditation, and the dark was gone from his head.

By the time it was done, Raphael had almost stopped shaking and was twisting his hands together, the anxiety peaking and gathering at the top of his head. He wanted to explode. He was at least grateful it was just the two of them.

Michelangelo was very patient and bizarrely silent, only making those painful sounds, along with the slow tapping of his heel. Gradually he slid down the wall, still watching Raph, maybe waiting for more screaming.

“’m sorry,"Raph said hoarsely. "I should have known. Been hanging around you long enough, right?”

“That doesn’t matter, you know,” Mikey said, with a cough, and Raph’s entire mind collapsed in relief.

“You got it raw and untrained,” Mikey continued, “and it is my job to teach you, and I’ve been slacking, and none of it is your fault.”

Raph sighed, staring at the alley entrance. “Those guys are dead, aren’t they.”

“By now, yeah. Stress can totally kill. Ramping up someone else’s emotions is, like, ridiculously intense as a weapon.” Michelangelo touched his shoulder. Raph didn’t flinch, since he knew Mike just absorbed any energies. His wild card little brother was like an unpredictable supernova sometimes.

The sense of peace that suddenly washed over him, now that was enough to make him smile. He didn’t bother to thank Mikey. It was automatic and unspoken. Soon enough, Raph might do that too.

He was not afraid anymore.

He sighed again and looked fully at his little brother. Mikey was holding himself very delicately, breathing shallow and muscles trembling.

“Gotta get you home,” Raph said hoarsely. “Fix you up. You’re prob’ly bleeding internally.”

Mikey slow-blinked, like a cat. Raph flashed back to all those other times, all those other stab wounds, broken bones, all the damages Michelangelo had taken on to protect his family with his new psychic abilities. Raph flashed back to that very first time, the katana wound in Mikey’s side getting infected and leaking black.

He lunged forward and rolled to his feet smoothly, then swept Mikey up in a bridal carry. Mikey squeaked and hissed. “Dude, what are you doing?”

“Going—going home,” Raphael panted. “Getting you home.”

“Raph, I can walk.”

“No. _No,_ you’re _bleeding inside_ , I can feel it.” He began to walk very slowly, past the two bodies, and he didn’t look at them. And he thought, _the police will come. Leave it, leave it, oh god._

Michelangelo pressed his face to Raph’s shoulder, dragged in a shaky breath, and coughed. It was wet and thick.

Raph felt a whine in the back of his throat.

He ran.

There was a manhole right there at the entrance to the alley. He had to set Mikey down to grab the cover. Michelangelo didn’t make a sound or move, except for that wet panting noise. Raph very carefully maneuvered him down.

“I got it,” Mikey whispered, gripping the ladder.

“Shut up, save your breath.” Raph came down and slid the manhole cover in place. He slid past Mikey and under him, guiding him down the ladder while his brother’s telepathic grumbles and eye-rolls made him grit his teeth. Mikey was so fucking _stubborn_ about these powers.

At the end, Mikey collapsed, groaning, and Raph hooked his hands under his armpits and dragged him up, throwing his left arm around his shoulders. “You want to walk? Fine, walk. But I’m helping you.”

No complaints. He slid his eyes over and saw how heavy the sweat was on Mikey’s pale pale skin. They walked for a good mile before Mikey gasped, “Stop.”

Out of instinct, Raph leaned him against a wall. He took his shoulders and frowned at him. Mikey blinked at him, breathing hard. And then his eyes changed.

Michelangelo’s eyes had changed like this before, but not so quickly, not so fiercely. Raph felt an instant of terror before Mikey’s hands came up and grasped the sides of his head, forcing Raph to look at him, to look _at_ him. Mike’s teeth were bared, and not just in pain.

“Told you,” he gasped. “T-told you. Listen. _Think_. Separate. Hurt you, Raphie, it _hurt you_. Can’t let it…can’t let that…”

“Mikey, what are you…” but he couldn’t pull away, and Mikey’s glowing glowing blue eyes were bigger, bigger than the sky, and something was being sucked out of him, something was _passing_ from him to Mikey, and Mikey’s eyes turned to ice, and then his hands fell away.

Raphael frowned. Something had gone missing. He couldn’t feel…what couldn’t he feel? Something wasn’t there.

“Own good,” Mikey murmured, paling even more. “For _you._ You _wait_ , Raph.”

Those icy blue eyes rolled up and slid shut.

“SHIT.” And Raph grabbed him as Mike slumped in his arms, and he hefted him into a bridal carry again. And then he began to _run_.

* * *

 

Raphael opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling of Donatello’s infirmary. He blinked.

_What the hell? Why am I in here? How did I get here?_

Suddenly he was hurting all over. Pinpricks of pain and stinging heat, cuts and bruises everywhere. He winced and very very slowly sat up on the small bed. His hands were heavily wrapped in bandages, but there was gauze all over his arms, his thighs, his plastron. There was a bandage on his face. He didn’t even remember getting hit by either of those humans!

Those humans. They were dead. They _scared themselves to death_ because of Raph’s emotions.

“Oh god,” he moaned, and dropped his head into his hands. “Oh my fucking god.”

And something was still missing.

“Hello, there,” came Donnie’s voice, and he looked up, wide-eyed and brimming with shame.

Donatello looked very tired and rather irritated, standing there with a damp rag at his bedside.

“Don, what happened? I can’t remem—Mikey! Where is he, he got hurt, his ribs, they broke his--”

“He’s here,” and Donnie gestured to the bigger infirmary bed. Mikey was wrapped up in gauze, attached to oxygen, and completely motionless.

“Is…” Raph coughed. “Is he…okay?”

Donnie looked at the floor. He looked up at Raph. “What happened last night, Raph? You two were just going to go out on a quick run.”

 _Last night._ He’d been unconscious all night? The something missing felt like a knife, and Raph narrowed his eyes. “First, tell me if Mikey is okay.”

“He’s…uh. He’ll be fine, he needs a lot of rest, there was blood around his lungs and his heart and…”

Raph swung his legs around and prepared to stand. Donnie pushed on his shoulders. “You. Stay down. Tell me what _happened_ , Raph.”

“I don’t even remember getting here!” Raph felt himself shout. “I was carrying Mikey, and then I was waking up in here, and Mikey _did_ something to my head and…why can’t I…I can’t _feel…_ ”

Leonardo was there, in that ninja way, and a lifetime of training meant that Raph didn’t even jolt. “Can’t feel what, Raph?”

“My…my _emotions._ ” There, it was out. He slapped his hands over his mouth. Wait, that wasn’t…no, that…he wasn’t…

“What?” Leo asked.

“What?” Don asked.

“Mikey,” Raph gasped. “He said…I had to _wait_ …holy shit, did he…did he block…did he _block_ me _off_?”

“Raphael!” Donatello looked like he was about to slap him. “What the actual fuck happened to you two last night?”

“I killed people!” Raph yelled. He felt nothing. He felt _nothing._ His brothers stumbled, stared at him.

“Mikey just wanted to show me how to control that…that projective empath thing okay? And we went _looking_ , we _chose_ to find some low-level crooks, and it was in an alley, and there were two of them, these two huge guys, like cage fighters, okay? And they came at us, and I think I lost control, and then one of them…he had this lead pipe, and he _hurt Mikey_ , and I just…I…my mind, I…” He clawed at his face, and Leo’s hands grabbed at his wrists.

“That’s how Mikey’s ribs got broken,” Donnie muttered. “That makes a lot more sense.”

“Raph, you’ll hurt yourself,” and Leo’s voice was a soothing balm, familiar blue energy cool against his mind. Leo was doing that aura thing that he and Mikey often practiced, that Reach Out And Touch You energy. For once, Raphael welcomed it openly and completely.

Leo’s energy, boosted by that bond Michelangelo had snapped them all into, was all colors and shapes, different from Raph’s emotions and Donnie’s words. Those colors tried to embrace the redness of Raph’s energy and usually Red snapped at it out of family dynamic instinct. This time, Red whined and leaned into it, and while Raph didn’t really _feel_ he _sensed_ the pain and worry and abstract fear. He flexed his fingers and looked up into his brother’s face. Leonardo was breathing meditatively, and Raphael followed. Donnie’s text energy, words scrolling across his mind, joined in.

Raphael saw himself, cradling Michelangelo like a child, stumbling through the turnstiles and down the staircase, yelling at the top of his lungs and swaying (had he really been hurt that badly? Was it all adrenaline that had kept him going?) and Donnie and Leo had clutched at him, guided him to the lab; he’d set Mikey on the main bed and then staggered to the smaller bed, fallen onto it face first, and curled into sleep, shivering, teeth grinding. Leo had worked on his wounds as Don had prepared to treat Mikey. They had called the Mutanimals, and April, and Casey.

_They had to cut through Mikey’s plastron. Again. Fuck. Oh my god._

Raph’s breath hitched.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “It’s all my fault. I didn’t listen to him. He was trying to teach me.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that, Raph,” Donnie said kindly, “you know Mikey. Leo checked in on his spirit. He’s exhausted and a little irritated, but once his body starts healing, he’ll be himself. April will be here soon. So will Rockwell. They’ll help him pull the telekinesis.”

“Right.” Raph ran a shaky hand down his face. “Right, he can heal a little.”

“More than the Healing Hands, at least,” Leo breathed, “and I almost passed out three times doing that too much.”

Raph glared at him. Leo raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m tired,” Raphael murmured. He was _tired._ Mikey had _taken_ his _emotions_ and his projection and Raph would’ve just _given_ it all if he had thought hard enough. This was fucking brutal.

“Lie back down,” Don said in That Voice, and for emphasis he even pressed his impossibly strong nimble hands against Raph’s chest. Raph let Don guide him onto his side, so he could see the other bed, could see Mikey’s bandaged chest rise and fall in time with the hiss of the oxygen tank.

He yawned and realized his jaw was aching. He remembered. Punching. Kicking. Bruises _everywhere_ , holy shell. Little cuts and scratches, no wonder there were Band-Aids and gauze pads in so many spots on his body. It had been _so dark_ and his mind had _overwhelmed_ and the only thing he had felt had been that tsunami of anger, the faceless thing that had lashed out and held tight the minds of two humans and ki-

No. No, their brains had _reacted_ and their bodies had _reacted_. Shock. Stress. Popped blood vessels, stopped breaths. It hadn’t…he hadn’t…they didn’t…

He watched Mikey breathe and he felt tears stream down his face.

 _I’m sorry. I’m trying. I’m sorry, I’m SORRY._ He squeezed his eyes shut and his cheek dug into the pillow and inside he cried, and inside he screamed and he screamed and he screamed.

* * *

He was dreaming of his father’s death again, of his enemy’s death again, and he jolted awake, curled up on his side. The only sound was the hiss of oxygen. And then his brother whispered, “Raph?”

He sat up, panting. “Mikey? I’m here. You need something?”

“I’m good. I want this damn mask off, though.” Michelangelo’s voice was muffled by the oxygen mask, and Raph smirked. “Donnie might yell at me, though. Breathing hurts, you know?”

“Yeah.” Raph swung his legs over the side of the bed and made out the shape of the other cot. Mikey’s eyes were silvery.

“You were having a nightmare,” his brother said flatly. “Dad and Shredder.”

“Yup.”

“C’mere,” Mikey said, and Raph hurried to him and gently held him. Mike wrapped his left arm around Raph’s shoulders and squeezed him, face pressed to his shoulder. “I just woke up. I’ve still got your stuff in me, I’m holding it.”

“Keep holding it,” Raph murmured. “I don’t trust myself with that kind of power yet. Not yet.”

“I’m sorry I yanked it like that,” and Michelangelo’s voice was oddly monotone and reminded Raph of something familiar.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, “because I need to…”

He pulled back, frowned. “Mikey, are you…”

_His eyes. His eyes are the same as the first time._

That first time, when the katana wound in Mikey’s side got infected and his eyes turned icy silver as the depression peaked and he collapsed.

“You’re not okay,” Raphael said. “Is that why you pulled me back?”

Michelangelo didn’t answer but his eyes lowered. Raph snarled and gripped his chin. “Stop that. You’re depressed again. When did it start? Just now? Before the alley fight?”

Mikey squirmed a little. “Be-before. ‘bout two weeks.”

“So you’ve been lying to us. Hiding.” Closing his eyes tightly, Raph groaned. Their father and his nemesis had been dead for three weeks, and Michelangelo had been the shining constant sun. Gods, his walls were up high and his shielding was _good_. Leonardo hadn’t sensed a goddamn thing.

“Does it matter?” Mikey whispered. Raph moaned and grabbed him, not caring that he crushed Mike’s strapped right arm to his wrapped torso, because even as Mikey made grunt of pain he knew his brother wouldn’t complain _too_ much. And that was the fucking _problem._ They were nearly seventeen and orphaned and they couldn’t express themselves well enough without—

His little brother made a weird, flat sigh with no emotion. Raphael felt more screaming well up in him.

 _This isn’t right,_ he thought, _this isn’t how life is meant to go, Leo’s pulling away and Mikey’s falling down and Donnie’s locked up and am I the only one out there?_ He grabbed on harder and held closer and Mikey s          queaked, this time really in pain, and this time Raph didn’t really care, he wanted to _feel it_ and he found himself reaching into his little brother’s head with an empty mental hand, reaching for his own power safely stored in Mikey’s hidden storage.

Hands gripped his biceps and his brother growled in his mind. _Where are you going, Raph? I don’t think you wanna do that._

 _I want to do something,_ he growled back. _If you’re not gonna feel, I will. Gimme._

_Raph, we still need to practice, I let you go too fast, it’s too soon…_

_Mikey, I know you love me and all, but lemme handle this, I was wrong, I know I can do this. I can do this better—_

And something suddenly gave way, like Mikey’s mental self backing away with hands in the air, and Raph slipped down and down and his breath caught.

 _If you think so. Maybe Sensei was right, you got control when we weren’t looking. I’m not enough to feel it right now._ And Mikey’s psychic sigh was gray and flat and a little sad in a hollow way and Raphael wanted to scream.

So he _grabbed_ all the red he could see, pulled it away from the protective embrace of orange, which flickered and pulled away without even a struggle, and Raph grit his teeth, _At least fight me a little, Mikey, don’t just give up like that, that’s not fucking fair_ and all the red, all the Raphael, surged up and poured into him, and he felt everything at once, Red bouncing out and throughout the lair as if in a mad dash—

He sensed Leo and Don sleeping deeply, dreamless for once, he sensed Ice Cream Kitty and Chompy, he sensed the little creatures out in the tunnels, he sensed the air and the water, before it all looped back and slammed into him, a physical scream, and then his eyes were wide and he was gasping for air, and he let go and Mikey fell back on his elbows, looking at him with a gray endless gaze.

Raph scrambled off the cot and fell on his tail, blinking up at his brother. Mikey blinked back at him without a word. He laid down and Raph was alone in his thoughts.

“Damn it,” he gasped, and stared at his brother, who was closing his eyes.

The world felt off-kilter.

Standing shakily, Raphael crawled back into his own cot and stared at the ceiling before somehow falling asleep. He didn’t dream.

* * *

After breakfast, Donnie let Raph out of the infirmary, taking note of his jittery, anxious mood. Raph immediately went to his room and hammered out something on his drum set. His foot kept shaking. Maybe Mikey had been right to take the projective empathy. Raph felt it stretching, felt it too big in his head, had to keep building and repairing its leash. It was _exhausting._

This wasn’t all his, after all, their baby brother was the one who had started it, they were _meant_ to go to him for work and control.

Raph didn’t really want to face him like this; this was too much control, too much order. Mikey felt _empty_.

Raph wasn’t used to emptiness in anything. He almost felt too happy when Mikey had taken his power, it had been a new kind of empty, a place that had been too full being drained and something removed. He wanted to give it back but he had been the one who took it last night. His bed, what he had made, etcetera.

Someone knocked on his door. He sensed a surge of blue. “Yeah,” he muttered with usual gruffness.

Leonardo opened his door, stepped in, closed the door. “Raph, did you know Mikey was depressed?”

Raphael stared at his drumsticks and put them away. “Just last night. He gave me back my…ability.”

Leo just nodded, sitting on the bed. “Donnie got it all out of him. He’s doing some therapy exercises with him now.”

“He’s all empty,” Raph murmured. “You feel it, right?”

“Yes,” and Leo sighed. “He and I were supposed to meditate with my powers today, but I delayed it until he feels better. What about you, though, Raph? Last night you said Mikey had reabsorbed your empathy powers so you could learn more control. Now you have them again?”

“I took them back,” Raph said. “I thought I had more control. I dunno. Since I did…that…to those humans, it’s like something in me rose up and took control.”

“That’s fascinating,” Leo said, and he sounded actually fascinated. Raph perked up, then joined him on the bed.

“It…it’s like there’s a whole new part of me,” he continued, staring at Leo. “It’s all bright and strong. Like it’s holding a leash attached to the projective empathy part.”

“Is it coming from Mike, maybe?”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s a part of him that broke off and came to me and…kinda settled. And waited. Maybe that was why Mikey took my power last night, to give it that…that guardian.” He blinked, sensing something inside him stir, steel and fog and red with hints of orange. “Yeah. Yeah. Like a guard. Guardian. More control. He didn’t exactly protest when I took my stuff back, y’know?”

Raph grinned, pleased with himself. “So…so what’s Donnie say? About Mike, I mean. I know it’s only been like a week, but he’ll start feeling better, right?”

Leonardo bit his lip, his eyes not leaving Raph’s face. “Donnie…and April agrees, she’s come to help…Donnie says that you’d be able to talk to Mikey empath to empath. Are you ready for that? Are you all right with that?”

Raph had to suppress a smirk. He wondered if Mikey had planned some exercise like that anyway, before the depression episode struck. Knowing the goofball, yes.

“Yes,” he said.

Leo clapped him on the shoulder. “April thinks it’ll take a long time,” he said. “She says that you can start small, and even if Mikey’s episode lasts a few months, the empathy stuff will be as helpful as therapy or even medicine.

Raph nodded and let out a breath. “Good. That’s good.”

Awkwardly, Leonardo grinned and stood up. “I, uh, I’m going to go practice katas. Sorry, I’m just…since Father died, it’s been…”

“Weird, yeah,” Raph said. “Heavy.”

It’s been heavy.

Leo swallowed and nodded, and left his room. Raphael stared at the floor, and then reached his mind out instinctively.

_Hey, Mikey?_

There was a long pause, a full silence.

 _Hey, Raph._ Mikey sounded very tired.

_Mikey, um, you mind if I come in and sit with you for a while? We…we should talk._

He sensed his brother smile broadly, a close echo of his normal sunny grin.

 _That’s an awesome idea, Raph. I’ll be here._  
  
Raph smiled and sighed. _Cool. I’m ready._

He was ready.

 

* * *

 


End file.
